The limousine was a graveyard, silent and weirdly dry. Dante sat across from me like a 'king' in his sharp black leather jacket, his attention consumed by the glowing screen of his phone. The dim light reflected on his face, highlighting his sharp side profile, 'God he was looking even better than before.'
I tried to focus on the city lights blurring past the window, on the mission, on anything but him. But my traitorous eyes kept flicking back, drawn to the subtle, somehow infuriating smile that played on his lips as he typed.
A name glowed on his: Mira
'Dante, darling, you're getting late' the text read.
His thumbs flew over the screen. 'Now patience, Mira. I will be there soon'
The smile on his face was intimate, familiar. A smile I hadn't seen since I got here, a smile I hadn't seen in years, a smile I had dreamed to see again and now it hurt that I wasn't the reason for the smile anymore.
A scoff escaped me before I could choke it back in, loud and cut-sharp in the quiet car.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Slowly, deliberately, Dante lowered his phone. His eyes met mine, they were like a sea of obsidian.
"What was that, Morales?" His voice was dangerously soft.
I swallowed, my throat tight. "Nothing, sir I was just…thinking of someone else." The lie tasted like sea salt.
His gaze didn't waver. It felt like being physically pinned. Then, it deliberately traveled down, a slow, scorching inspection of the emerald green dress he had sent. It was a combination of silk and satin,and it made me feel utterly exposed and naked.
"You are working for me now, Sophia," he stated, his voice a low tone that vibrated between us. "So all that should be on your mind is me and the jobs I give you. Understood?"
The possessiveness in his voice was vaguely scary, it was a slap. He could text another woman, but I wasn't allowed a stray thought? Why was I feeling like this, it wasn't as if he knew who I really was. I shouldn't be getting jealous, I came here to do my job and then I will disappear and all of this will just be like a bad dream.
I gave a sharp, tight nod, the anger like hot coal burning in my stomach. "Understood"
—-----------------------
The party was magnificent, the elegance was something I only ever read about, but never really experienced. It was held in a penthouse with a glass-domed ceiling showing the reflection of the stars. Crystal chandeliers dripped from above, scattering light across a sea of diamonds and designer gowns. Laughter and the click of glasses of champagne against each other, a symphony of effortless wealth. It was a far cry from the blood-stained warehouses and soundproof interrogation rooms that were my normal habitat.
An unexpected pang of loss hit me. My father had hidden me from this world and in doing so, had stolen so much.
A sharp snap of fingers directly in front of my face shattered my day-dream.
"What are you looking at?" Dante's voice was a cold command beside me. "Let's go."
He moved through the crowd like a shark, everyone who was in the way quickly scattered like prey scared to be devoured and I followed in his steps, the invisible employees. We had barely taken ten steps into the hall when a woman descended upon us.
She was beautiful in a sharp and severe way, she was stunning in her all black hair-do, a crimson dress that screamed money, and a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Dante! I was beginning to think you'd stood me up."
"Mira." His voice was warm, a complete transformation from the tone he used with me. He accepted the air-kiss on his cheek. "You look gorgeous."
My stomach twisted, so this was Mira.
They fell into an easy conversation, discussing people and events I knew nothing about. I stood there like a piece of furniture. She didn't even glance my way. Not a 'who is this?' or a polite nod. I was beneath her notice, probably another accessory he carried about. After a moment, she looped her arm through his. "Look, I want to meet someone special, he is desperate to talk to you. He's in the study."
With a last, meaningless smile, she led him away. Dante went without a backward glance, absorbed back into his world of power and privilege.
Who did he think he was? Dragging me here to play the ignored servant while he had fun with his…whatever she was.
I needed a drink. Now.
I found a bar, a long polished slab of mahogany and slid smoothly onto a stool. "Iced whiskey. Neat."
The bartender, a guy with kind eyes and an easy smile, glanced at me as he made the drink. "Rough night? You look like you're about to commit murder with your bare hands. You know, I'm a pretty good therapist."
I managed a thin smile. "Do you ask all the mobsters and crime lords here about their problems? Seems like a good way to end up at the bottom of a river."
He laughed, sliding the glass toward me. "Nah. Just the pretty ones who look like they would rather be anywhere else. And you," he said, leaning on the bar, his face close to mine, "don't look like you'd hurt me."
If only he knew. The irony was almost funny. "You'd be surprised"
He was charming and funny, regaling me with stories of drunken mobsters. For a few minutes, I could just be a woman at a party, laughing at a handsome bartender's jokes. The sound of laughter felt foreign on my lips. The tight knot in my chest began to loosen. A little fun on the job couldn't hurt.
The feeling was short-lived.
A presence materialized behind me, vast and chillingly familiar. A large, familiar hand landed on the bar next to my glass, caging me in.
"Having fun, Morales?"
Dante's voice sounded more like a threat, a warning and not just a question. The bartender's smile vanished and he quickly found something else to clean.
Dante's eyes were locked on me, and I could see all the anger and cold fire burning in their depths.